Breathing New Life
by OpenPage
Summary: This is actually an excerpt from my fic, "Beneath a Heart of Darkness", which can be found on The Archive, but it works fine as a stand-alone story. Tom is a rape survivor, and Dennis is there to gently guide him when his body reawakens after weeks of impotency.


It wasn't the soft, ethereal glow of dawn's early light peeping through the ill-fitting curtains that gently lured Tom from a restless night's sleep. It wasn't the promise of a new day, free from the nightmares that still plagued his tortured mind or the pleasing chirrup of the house sparrows greeting the sun's rays with their morning song of joy. It was something more physical, something _visceral,_ an inherent perception of a long-forgotten pleasure slowly rising from within.

His body was awakening.

A low moan tumbled from his lips, and rolling over, he pressed against the muscular body lying beside him. With his mind suspended between sleep and consciousness, his movements were intuitive, and instinctively seeking friction, he ground his growing erection against Booker's firm buttocks, the primordial impulse fueling his urges. The tactual contact stimulated his sensitive organ, kicking his libido into high gear, and the rhythmic fluidity of his movements quickly transformed into manic thrusting, the bed rocking violently with the force of his body's propulsion. It was the sensory gratification of a long forgotten pleasure, but this time, it wasn't a dream, this time, it was a reality.

Abruptly pulled from a peaceful sleep by the frantic motion, Booker's eyes flew open. His first thought was his friend was having a nightmare, but when he recognized the unmistakable hardness of Tom's cock pressing against him, the corners of his lips curved into a boyish grin. His prayers had been answered; his baby was cured.

Blood flowed through the arteries of his cock, instantly swelling his shaft into hardness. While he knew he needed to exercise restraint and hand over control so his lover could set the pace, his body quivered with anticipation. It was the moment he had dreamed about since his lover's assault. The time had come to show Tom—through tender touches and loving kisses—that gay sex wasn't about violence or a need for power, it could be and should be all about love.

He would be his guiding light.

With the sensation of Tom's erection rubbing against his backside becoming too tantalizing to ignore any longer, Booker rolled over, and pressing his lips against the delicate curve of his lover's ear, he kissed the sleep-warm flesh. "Wake up, beautiful."

Whether it was the loss of physical stimulus or the soft, verbal command, Tom's mind jerked into full consciousness, and opening his eyes, he blinked several times before focusing on Booker's grinning face. "Huh?"

Booker's heart dipped momentarily before skipping into a faster rhythm. The innocence behind Tom's bewildered gaze had his soul bursting with such an intensity of love, the pulsating vibration tingled throughout his entire body. But before he could verbally express the depth of feeling, he watched with growing adoration as Tom's brain registered his body's physical awakening. The young officer's eyes grew wide and with a shaky hand, he pulled back the covers and gazed in wonder at the sight of his burgeoning erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. "Jesus," he whispered.

Flecks of gold flickered in the depths of Booker's dark irises, the desirous flame radiating from his arousal within. He longed to take Tom's impressive erection in his hand and explore the rigid contours of the hardened flesh, to commit the conformation of his phallus to memory as only a lover would do. But he was wary of spooking the young officer, of coming on too strong. If their amorous play progressed, it would be the first time since their forced oral copulation that they would both be willing and able to engage in a physical, sexual act. While it was a significant moment in their relationship, he was mindful of respecting Tom's boundaries. His lover's only experience of gay sex was one tainted with blood, violence, and humiliation, and the last thing he wanted was to pressure him into participating in something he didn't feel comfortable doing.

Therefore, he reined in his raging hormones, and cupping Tom's face in the palm of his hand, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the flesh of the young officer's enticing pout. Deepening the kiss, he sucked provocatively at his lover's tongue and lips, before trailing a wet path down to the hollow of his throat. "Do you want me to touch you, baby?" he murmured, his mouth nipping and sucking at the firm, inviting flesh. "Do you want me to make you come?"

A surge of adrenaline rushed through Tom's body, bringing forth a moment of panic. His rape, along with the indignity of his impotence had deadened his desires for six long weeks, and he craved the caress of a tender, loving hand. He wanted to feel alive, to reach the dizzying heights of orgasm without the pain of humiliation. But the memory of his assault was still so raw, so painfully _emasculating,_ he briefly wondered if he would ever again know the intimate touch of another human being. However, it did not take long for the urgent throbbing in his groin to override his uncertainty. It was now or never, and pushing aside his reservations, he bit down on his lower lip and responded with a shy, almost imperceptible nod of his head. "Yes."

The young officer's innocent, yet seductive demeanor sent another rush of blood to Booker's cock. "Lie back," the dark-haired officer instructed, his voice breathless with longing.

Tom rolled onto his back, his large, trusting eyes immediately focusing on his lover's handsome face. He couldn't deny it, he _was_ nervous, but Booker had proved himself a gentle, caring friend, and having witnessed the horror of his assault, he had faith he would treat him with dignity and understanding without reinforcing his feelings of inadequacy.

Smiling reassuringly, Booker sat up and pushed away the covers. "Can I take off your boxers?" he asked softly.

Again Tom nodded his consent, this time, a little more enthusiastically. Having received his friend's permission, Booker slid his fingers under the elastic waistband of Tom's shorts and slowly removed the cotton material, revealing his lover's magnificent erection. His own, noticeable bulge strained at his boxers, but he ignored his desire for stimulation and licking his lips appreciatively, he took pleasure in the sight of the pearl of precum bubbling from the young officer's slit. The urge to lean forward and lick the saliferous fluid from the tip of Tom's smooth cockhead was almost his undoing, but with dogged determination, he ignored his own selfish needs and concentrated on making his lover comfortable. Moving in a slow, non-threatening manner, he carefully straddled Tom's lower legs, and sitting back on his haunches, he reached out a hand and stroked an affectionate finger over his lover's chiseled cheekbone. "We can stop any time. Okay?"

Although appreciative of Booker's thoughtful and loving consideration, Tom was past the point of stopping, and without breaking eye contact, he took hold of his lover's hand and guided it down between his legs. "Touch me," he whispered, his chest rapidly rising and falling with each short, ragged, intake of breath. "I want you to touch me."

"Oh, Tommy," Booker breathed, his eyes dancing with a hunger born from the deep, passionate love he felt for the man lying beneath him. "You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are."

A blush of embarrassment colored Tom's cheeks, and with his softly parted lips and dark, doe-like eyes, he was a picture of erotic beauty, a living, breathing canvas of sexually charged energy. Never before had Booker seen anyone look more attractive, more sensual, and trailing the tip of his finger along the ridge of Tom's penile raphe, he slowly teased him with each feathery stroke. But the young officer wasn't in the mood for foreplay, he'd waited for six, long, painful weeks to obtain an erection, and the only thing on his mind was getting off.

With no inhibitions left to lose, he grabbed hold of Booker's wrist, and wrapping his lover's long fingers around his shaft, he gently coaxed the warm hand up and down, his rhythm jerky and full of desperation. It was a silent plea, but there was no mistaking his objective; he wanted to come, and he wanted to come _now._

Although Booker would have loved to take his time and explore every inch of Tom's taut, naked body, he understood the urgency behind his lover's actions. There was no doubt in his mind the young officer was terrified of losing his erection before he reached orgasm, and the concern was justified. Just because Tom was hard didn't mean he would ejaculate, and Booker knew if he failed to climax, it would confirm his feelings of inadequacy, which in turn would reinforce his perceived emasculation, adding to his depression.

But there was no way in hell Booker was going to let that happen. He was on a mission, and not only was he going to give Tom back his life, but his body as well. He was determined to make him whole again.

With no need for further persuasion, he formed a fist around Tom's cock and gently twisting his hand around the base, he slid his fingers up toward the tip. When he reached the enticing, plum-shaped head, he ran his thumb over the smooth flesh, coating the pad with the viscous fluid leaking from the tip. Using the juices as lubrication, he twisted and twirled his hand up and down Tom's erect shaft, his fingers gently squeezing and releasing in a slow, tugging motion. "Do you like that, baby?" he murmured, his free hand lightly fondling Tom's balls. "Do you like me touching you."

Tom squirmed, his hips rocking upwards, selfishly demanding more. "Faster," he moaned. "Jerk me faster."

Always willing to please, Booker abandoned his technique and resorted to the basics. With no need for finesse, he pumped his fist over Tom's erection, alternating pressure as his hand glided over the thick, swollen shaft, his actions bringing his lover closer to orgasm with each skillful stroke.

"Yes, yes, yes," Tom panted, his trembling body flexing backward. Every nerve tingled with the impatient desire for sexual release, and for the first time in weeks, he felt truly alive. It was a defining moment in his healing, and unable to control the desperation rising from within, his hips shot forward, the jerking motion thrusting his cock deeper into Booker's willing hand. "Oh God oh God oh God…"

The tip of Booker's erection peeped through the fly of his boxers, the sleek cockhead blushing a deep shade of pink. He longed to ask Tom to touch him, to beg him to run his slim, artistic fingers over his throbbing shaft, but he pushed the narcissistic thought away. Today it was about Tom, today it was about restoring his lover's confidence and banishing the self-doubt that continued to shroud him in darkness. It was all about a new beginning, a new dawn free from humiliation and pain.

It was the birth of their relationship.

As endorphins and oxytocin rushed into his bloodstream, Tom could feel his orgasm rising, and a full body tremor ran from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His fingers grabbed handfuls of the crumpled bed sheet beneath him, the thrill of Booker's touch igniting a fire in the pit of his stomach. An electric charge coursed through his body, heating his flesh in a warm, sensual glow, and his toes curled in anticipation for what was to come. "Oh, Dennis," he moaned, his perfect bowed lips forming an enticing pink O, the erotic pout sending a shiver of delight down Booker's spine. "I'm close, I'm so fucking close."

"Tell me what you want, baby," Booker encouraged, his dark eyes shining brightly as his hand continued to pleasure Tom with swift, measured strokes. "Tell me what you need to make you come."

Tom's body suddenly spasmed, his torso arching backward. "YOU!" he cried. "I need _YOU!"_ And with one final, desperate thrust, his body shuddered violently, and he climaxed forcefully over Booker's fingers.

The unexpected admission sent a bolt of pure sexual energy through Booker's body. There was no warning, the emotional charge hit him hard and fast, and with a low, guttural moan, his body stiffened, and he ejaculated without ever having touched his cock.

Shocked and surprised by the abruptness of his orgasm, he gazed open-mouthed at the wet patch on the front of his boxers, his lover temporarily forgotten. But when warm fingers grasped his hand, he looked up, and his face relaxed into a smile. "Shit," he chuckled.

Tom's finger traced a pattern over the stained material of Booker's boxers. "I must have magic powers," he joked, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

Flopping onto his back, the dark-haired officer gathered his lover into his arms. "Cheeky," he admonished softly, his lips trailing over Tom's jawline before nuzzling into the curve of his neck. "You weren't exactly _Mister Restraint."_

A shadow passed over Tom's face. "No, I wasn't," he replied quietly, "I was scared I wouldn't—"

"Shhh," Booker murmured, his mouth pressing against the warmth of Tom's flesh. "You don't have to worry about that anymore."

A surge of emotion brought a lump to Tom's throat, but he quickly swallowed it down, not wanting to spoil the moment. "Thanks to you," he acknowledged quietly, and pushing up onto his elbow, he fixed his gaze on Booker's sated eyes. "How can I ever make it up to you?"

An impish smile tilted the corners of the dark-haired officer's lips, and pulling Tom toward him, he kissed him tenderly. "Oh, I'll think of something," he teased, his tongue trailing over his lover's seductive pout. "This is just the beginning, baby, we have our whole lives to get to know each other better, if you know what I mean."

With a contented sigh, Tom lowered his head onto Booker's smooth chest, and closing his eyes, he allowed the steady beat of his lover's heart to lull him toward sleep. He could not remember a time when he'd felt more at peace, and as he drifted into unconsciousness, he imagined what it would feel like to abandon all fear and surrender his body completely.


End file.
